Thatcher focuses on me. “Banks learning we’re having sex has less consequences. My brother will keep his mouth shut.”
“It’s not like I’m asking my brothers, who would inquire unto my untimely death. It’s Luna,” I whisper. “If I tell her I need one just in case, she won’t bat an eye.”
He checks his watch.
“She might not even be in her room,” I add. “You running in and out of security’s townhouse has inherently more risk. You could bump into Akara or Quinn.”
He’s a natural leader. He makes calls and executes, and I’m a valuable asset in our mission to have intercourse.
He sees this. “Be careful.”
“I will try.” All dressed, I put my hand on the doorknob.
“Jane,” Thatcher calls out under his breath, but I hear the firmness. “Your shirt.”
I stop and look down.
Sure enough, my yellow sequined blouse is inside out.
“Merde.” Heat bathes me as I remove my top. Hurry, Jane.
I spin around for him, arms outstretched. We inhale. We both stare at one another like we ache to be nearer. Me wrapped up in his arms. His cock inside of me.
Less than an hour left.
He mouths, good to go.
I slip out of my room.
Muffled voices come from downstairs. I tiptoe softer, wooden floorboards creaking, and I strain my ears. I had no clue people gathered downstairs.
They weren’t here when Thatcher snuck over, and he’s going to have a harder time sneaking out.
I hear a familiar voice, but I can’t distinguish words.
My brother.
Beckett.
He must be stopping by to see Sulli, his best friend. He could have a rare night off from ballet rehearsals. It’s not unheard of.
I catch a recognizable laugh and snort.
Sulli , most surely.
I smile and close my door gently. Carefully, I head over to Luna’s bedroom. Directly across the landing. I knock. “Luna?” I whisper.
There’s no answer. If she brought a one-night stand over, Quinn Oliveira would be outside her door on-duty. But so far, she hasn’t hooked up with a stranger in this house.
She goes to their place or a hotel.
I don’t believe she went out tonight. So I’m assuming she’s with Beckett and Sulli downstairs.
Search the room.
Find the condoms.
I try the knob. The door is unlocked.
I easily step inside—I freeze. Luna is under the neon-green sheets on her bottom bunk, but her face is exposed. Her lips in an O . And by the other body shape and movement happening under the sheet, she’s not alone.
A guy’s head is definitely between her legs.
My feet don’t move and my eyelids don’t work properly when I need them to. She spots me quickly and also tenses.
“Shitshit,” Luna curses.
I open my mouth, but the guy’s head pops out of the sheet in a flash. He stares up at Luna with wide, concerned eyes.
I know him.
Chestnut brown hair, tattoo sleeve, and cut muscles, trained in MMA—he’s a twenty-seven-year-old Omega bodyguard.
Paul Donnelly.
“What’s wrong?” he asks Luna, worried. He’s already turning his head towards the entrance.
Towards me.
I’m frozen.
She’s frozen.
Donnelly is like water on a hot summer’s day. Thawed completely, he moves. Carefully slipping out of the bottom bunk while also keeping Luna covered with the sheet.
He’s wearing black pants, but he grabs a tattered Van Halen tee off the floor.
Luna watches him, then looks to me, more wide-eyed.
My vocal cords loosen. “I’m so sorry, Luna.”
Never did I imagine I’d walk in on my almost-nineteen-year-old cousin receiving oral sex. Let alone from a bodyguard. I haven’t even accidentally walked in on Moffy having sex with his bodyguard.
I’m having sex with mine.
Oh my God.
This just became dreadfully more complicated.
“I’m going to come back later,” I manage to add quickly. I head to the door, backing away from this.
“Waitwait!” Luna whisper-hisses. “Don’t leave before I can explain.”
Curiosity has me in a vice. I waver.
I cave beneath the pleading look in her eyes. I do as she instructs and come forward. She shimmies up the headboard and snaps on a bra.
I have many questions. Like why Beckett’s bodyguard is in her room and going down on her.
I shut the door behind me. I’d love for Thatcher to be here, but he’s not even supposed to be in my bedroom. So I can’t call him in as a right-hand.
Donnelly fixes his safety pin that’s functioning as a cartilage earring, and he sits down on an alien beanbag. He appears cool, calm, like I didn’t just interrupt him.
Luna wiggles her shorts on underneath the sheet, and then she slides out of the bunk. Landing on her butt, rather than her feet.
She leans on the bedframe, hugging her legs. “So Donnelly was here to design my tattoo.”
Donnelly nods, slipping a cigarette behind his ear.
I notice his sketchbook on the floor. “I see.”
Luna points to the desk near him. “Donnelly, that’s for you, by the way. Just as payment for the design. I have cash for the actual tattoo.”
He’s in arm’s reach and stretches. Grabbing a burnt orange sweater, a green alien peace sign stitched in the middle. “Sick. Did you make this?”
“Yeah, I knitted it.” Luna shrugs.
Donnelly pulls the sweater over his head. It stops well above his belly-button. He smirks and leans back on the beanbag. “Fits perfect.”
Luna smiles, then to me she says, “Alrighty, so me and him—we’re here for the tattoo design.”
“I believe you, but that doesn’t really explain what I saw.”
She clarifies, “We were in my room going over the design, and I asked him if he could
show me what good head feels like.”
I’ve recently asked my bodyguard to put his cock in me, so…
I can relate to Luna, I suppose. On some level.
Recently, Luna has said she prefers one-night stands than having to muddle through the dynamics and complications of an actual relationship.
I’ve shared the same views, so I understand where she’s coming from.
I’m just…
A little stunned that I’m not the only one secretly hooking up with a bodyguard at the current moment.
I steeple my fingers to my lips, thinking. “More facts,” I say. “You and you.” I point from Luna to Donnelly. “Hooked up just because you wanted to see what good head felt like?”
“I knew you’d get me,” Luna says into a nod. “I just can’t really tell the good sex from the bad ones. They all feel pretty good to me, so I came up with a scientific study. Have a baseline that everything is compared to.”
Donnelly raises his hand. “I’m her baseline.”
“I followed that.” My brows crinkle at Luna. “You don’t even like science.”
“Exactly,” Luna says. “Tom, Eliot and I have this theory that you can make anything fun, given the right circumstances. I’m making science fun. With sex.”
I love her.
And we’re both silly grinning right now. But I have to put on my best friend hat because my best friend happens to be her older, very protective brother.
“Maximoff—” I start.
“Can’t know,” Luna says adamantly. “I can’t even imagine what his reaction would be if he knew Donnelly and I hooked up—for scientific purposes—but still.” She looks to Donnelly. “Moffy goes three-fourths Loren Hale, and there is no universe you’d ever survive one-half of my dad if he found out.”
She’s right.
Uncle Lo would surely do damage.
But this is Maximoff. And I’m already keeping one giant secret from him. I can’t imagine holstering another.
I take a sharper breath. To keep so much from him—it will break my heart. It hurts imagining him doing that to me.
Luna notices my wince. “Jane,” she pleads. “It was just a one-time thing. He really doesn’t need to know.”